


Chiaroscuro

by ZaliaChimera



Series: Growing Pains [3]
Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Angst, Boys Kissing, Caning, Canon Gay Character, Catholic School, Catholicism, Child Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Homophobic Language, Horny Teenagers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 14:32:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16914654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: Summer, swimming and illicit snogging.





	Chiaroscuro

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Simon's backstory and Season 2

The weekly Saturday morning phone call had not gone well, and Simon was feeling it now, bright stripes of pain along the backs of his legs that throbbed as he walked, the material of his jeans pressing against them. He supposed he was just lucky that Nan hadn’t banned him from leaving the house all day. A day with nothing but Hail Marys and the musty smell of Nan’s study was not how he wanted to start his weekend.

There were much better things to be doing.

The sun filtered through the trees as he turned along a well worn path that led into the woods. It was dusty rather than muddy, what with how dry it had been, and he could already hear people’s voices as he approached the stream, whoops of excitement and dogs barking.

“Oi! Simon! Over here!”

Simon grinned when he spotted Jack perched on the big, raised, metal pipe that ran through a hollow in the ground, his legs swinging idly, shorts exposing pale and freckled skin to mid-thigh. “Alright, Jack!”

He edged out along the pipe before lowering himself a great deal more gingerly, pain flaring through his thighs. He bit his lip, forcing down a soft noise. Bloody hell, she’d really gone at it this time.

Jack grinned back and clapped him on the shoulder. “Didn’t think you were gonna make it.”

Simon snorted, kicking his feet and wishing that he’d been able to wear shorts. It was only just past noon and it was scorching. “Something came up at home. Got delayed by Nan.”

“Nothing bad?” Jack asked, with the wariness that he used only when talking about Simon’s family.

“Weekly phone call home from Sister Christine,” Simon replied.

“Ugh.” Jack grimaced. He’d heard enough of Simon’s tirades against Sister Christine to know that the weekly phone call was never a good thing. “You alright?”

“Yeah, ‘course I am. You know me.” Simon flashed him a smile. “I’m here now anyway. You said you’ve got beer?”

Jack pouted at him. “Ow. I’m starting to think that you only love me for the illicit substances I can provide.”

Simon nudged Jack with his elbow, making him wobble a little on the pipe. “Not sure booze and fags count as illicit.”

“Hey! Just because the girl at the shop and I have an understanding doesn’t mean it’s not illicit.”

“Not exactly peddling crack though are you?”

“Says the bloke who fuels a veritable black market in porn and cigs at his school,” Jack replied.

“Everything’s illicit if you’re Catholic,” Simon said, and after a moment, he pushed himself off the pipe, landing lightly on the ground. He turned to offer his hand to Jack. “Come on Jacky-boy. I could really use a beer.”

Jack grabbed him, his hand warm and firm, and dropped to the ground next to him. “Yeah. Should probably drink it before Jill and the kids find out where I hid it.”

“Yeah, I reckon even your mum’s infinite tolerance might run out if your sister goes home drunk.”

“She’s not really that happy when I go home drunk.”

“She’s never said owt about me being drunk. Last time she just got me some water, remember?”

That had been a good night.

Jack gave him a wry look and turned back onto the path which led towards the stream. “That’s because she thinks you need mothering. I’m just her son. She has to deal with me everyday.”

“She… does?” Simon asked, frowning like it was a foreign concept. Which it sort of was if he thought about it. But it was nice. Made his chest squeeze tight with emotion.

“Oh yeah,” Jack said, oblivious to Simon slowing down and the breath catching in his throat. “She keeps telling me to invite 'that nice young man’ over to dinner.”

It was enough to make Simon stop walking for a moment, staring at the back of Jack’s head as his friend carried on walking. It took Jack a few steps before he realised that Simon wasn’t following him, and he turned back, frowning at the expression on Simon’s face. “You okay?”

Simon blinked rapidly a few times. Dust in his eyes. Not surprising. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. You know what I think about your mum’s food.”

Jack raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, never seen someone so happy to get fish fingers for tea before.”

“Sometimes you just want normal stuff for tea, y'know? Not like… like overcooked ham with steamed cabbage.”

“That sounds gross,” Jack replied, his face twisting in disgust.

“Try eating it,” Simon said.

“I think I’ll pass,” Jack said. “Just keep coming over to mine.”

“I’m glad to,” Simon said, warm and heartfelt.

Jack hopped down onto a bit of pebbly beach which ran alongside this curve of the stream, and he walked a few steps into the water which swirled around his ankles. He came back a moment later with a plastic bag weighted down by what was inside and hosted himself back up onto the bank only to flop down on the grass. After a moment, he reached up to grab Simon’s hand and drag him down too.

“It’s just cheap stuff,” Jack said, passing over a can.

“Not like you need expensive beer,” Simon said and he snapped open the tab. “It all does the same job.”

Tastes good enough, gets you buzzed enough to enjoy yourself. That’s all he wants from alcohol.

Jack hummed happily, swigging from his own can and dipping his bare toes into the water. It looked wonderfully cool and Simon wished that he had worn sandals instead of trainers. The beer was cool though, and he ran the can over his forehead with a blissful sigh. From the corner of his eye he caught Jack staring and he smirked as he tilted his head back, making a show of trailing the can down over his throat.

“See something you like?” Simon asked, turning the can so that he could take a swallow.

“Pillock,” Jack muttered, and scowled at him, although he couldn’t even claim that he wasn’t smiling just a bit.

“You love it,” Simon said. Another swig and then he set the can down. “C'mon then.” He grabbed Jack’s hand, tugging him in so that Jack ended up leaning against Simon’s side. Simon curled an arm around him, holding him close.

“Oi!” Jack sputtered. “You’re gonna make me spill my beer!”

Simon rolled his eyes and leaned in to kiss him anyway. They’d got better at it since the first time; practice makes perfect as his nan would say, except she definitely hadn’t had this in mind. Jack’s lips softened and parted beneath his with the sharp tang of cheap lager, a million miles from saintly love and devotion.

Jack huffed at him when they parted, his tongue flicking out against his lips. “That is unfair,” he said. “You cannot just snog me and expect me to forgive the- the _blasphemy_ of nearly spilling my beer.”

Simon laughed at the utterly earnest expression on Jack’s face. “Want to bet? And spilling beer isn’t really a blasphemy, you know.”

“It is now. I hereby decree that the spilling of my beer is a crime against God and man.”

“Thank you, Pope Holden,” Simon replied, and leaned in for another kiss. He rested his hand against Jack’s thigh, stroking there lightly.

“And don’t you forget it!” Jack said, grinning against Simon’s lips.

“You do know that the Pope’s celibate, right?”

“What?” Jack said, looking a little bit horrified. “Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Not even hand jobs?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not even allowed to give yourself a hand job,” Simon replied, grinning at how utterly appalled Jack looked.

“But… but it’s fun.”

“Hate to break it to you, Jacky-boy, but fun is a sin,” Simon said solemnly. “Or at least it is if you’re my nan.”

Jack grimaced. “Your nan thinks everything is a sin, Si. Surprised she didn’t go off to become a nun or something.”

Simon shifted uncomfortably and took a long swig of beer. “I think she might’ve wanted to actually,” he said. “She mentioned it a couple of times, but y'know, I’m here and mum left so…”

“I-” Jack began and he looked about as awkward as Simon felt. Simon couldn’t really blame him. He didn’t know why he’d even brought it up. It’s stupid. “I’m sorry man.”

Simon shrugged, his fingers twisting into the grass to pull up little tufts of it. “Not your fault. Just mine- ow!” He glared at Jack after the elbow to the ribs, but Jack just looked stubbornly back at him.

“Stop that,” Jack said. “She’s your nan. She’s family. She’s supposed to take care of you. It’s not your fault.”

He was so certain, so thoroughly earnest that Simon had to believe him. Even if it wasn’t true, Simon nodded and managed a weak smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Obviously,” Jack replied and nudged him again, albeit a great deal more gently this time.

“And so modest with it too,” Simon said.

 

There were a few more kisses as they finished their beer and then Jack stood up. Holding his hand out to Simon. “Want to go swimming?”

It was hot and Simon was feeling sticky in his t-shirt and jeans and shoes. He cast a longing look at the water. “I can’t. My clothes’ll get wet.”

Jack gave him an incredulous look as he pulled off his own shirt. “Just wear your pants. They’ll dry. Hot enough.”

Simon grimaced, the burn of the marks on the backs of his legs seeming to flare now that he was thinking about it.

“I’ll just watch,” he said. He forced a lecherous grin and made a point of looking Jack over. It quickly became less forced. “I think I’m getting the better end of the deal to be honest.”

“Pervert,” Jack said. “Or maybe flatterer. Haven’t decided.”

“Can’t I be both?”

“Don’t get greedy,” Jack said, and tramped off towards the sound of splashing and children, leaving Simon jogging to catch up.

Jack’s sister was there with a few other kids and a couple of dogs who looked just as excited as the kids to be there. They had a rope swing set up from one of the trees which overhung the deepest part of the water, and were taking turns dive bombing into the stream.

It looked like a stupid amount of fun, especially when Jack yelled a war cry and took a running jump to catch the rope. He dropped like a stone, causing a massive splash and came back up panting and breathless and grinning like a lunatic.

Simon just watched, sat on the bank with his knees drawn up. It was totally fine just to watch. Really it was. It was good that they were having fun and Jack’s laughter made him smile anyway. Infectious it was. It was fine.

Jack eventually waded over to him, his hair dripping wet and he had a massive smile on his face. “Sure you don’t want to come in?”

“I can’t,” Simon said.

“Why not? It’s really nice!” Jack flicked water at Simon’s face just to prove it.

It did look really good. He was really hot.

Simon chewed on his lip for a moment, eyes downcast, before he came to a decision. He looked back up, meeting Jack’s eyes nervously. “You can’t get mad, okay? And you can’t tell.”

“Oh my god Si, did you get a tattoo on your arse?” Jack asked, looking intrigued and shocked all at once.

“No,” Simon said. “Think nan would actually murder me, even if I was like… thirty or something.” Of course this meant that he desperately wanted one. Or a few. He’d seen them in some of the skin mags that Jack shared with him.

Jack laughed and leaned against the bank, watching as Simon started to strip off. T-shirt and shoes and socks until slowly, reluctantly, he slid off his jeans. His briefs didn’t leave much to the imagination. He could maybe just jump in, and Jack might not notice .

Like that ever happened. Jack was unfortunately good at worming things out of him.

He set his jaw and turned around. Jack gasped in horror. “Did school do that to you?”

“Kind of…” Simon said with a dismissive shrug. Jack got so worked up about this stuff and it must be kind of nice going to a school where the worst that you got was detention.

He turned back around, folding his arms defensively over his chest. Jack had that familiar stubborn-angry look on his face, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides. “It’s fine Jack,” he said. “It’ll take more than this to get to me.”

“That doesn’t make it fine.”

“It wasn’t even school,” Simon said. “They called home. Probably shouldn’t have tried to sell your kind of magazines there is all. It’s nothing serious.”

He regretted the words the second they were out of his mouth, when Jack stiffened and his lips pressed together into a harsh line. One day, one day he will learn to keep his mouth shut.

“Yeah, because you totally didn’t have your tongue down my throat ten minutes ago,” Jack replied harshly.

“I didn’t- argh!” he buried his hands in his hair, frustration overwhelming for a moment. “Look, the normal stuff is like- boys will be boys. You get a rap on the hands but it’s just what boys do. The other stuff is…” He gave Jack a pleading look. “More like pray to God to save your soul from eternal damnation. That’s what nan said, not me, okay? What everyone at school says.”

“And you?” Jack asked, not even trying to hide the accusation.

“What, you think I’d have had my hand down your pants this often if I believed that?”

“I guess there is that,” Jack said, his expression softening. “I don’t think they should hit you. It’s horrible.”

“It’s not that bad,” Simon replied. It was nothing he’d not felt before, even if it hurt to sit and Jack was looking at him like he needed rescuing. But he could take it. He’d done it for as long as he remembered. “Just leave it okay?”

He wished he didn’t sound like he was begging.

Jack muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath that Simon pretended not to hear. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Like hell,” Simon replied, smiling ruefully. “Not much of a deterrent if it doesn’t.”

“Not much of a deterrent anyway since they keep doing it,” Jack pointed out. “Unless you’ve just got masochistic tendencies.”

“Oooh, breaking out the long words there Jack.” Simon lowered himself gingerly into the water, hissing when it touched his sore skin. After a moment of pain it eased and oh, oh that was nice.

The water was just deep enough for swimming and Simon pushed himself into an experimental breaststroke towards the opposite bank. Jack followed him, his smile as bright as ever. “Good, right?”

“So good,” Simon said. “God, I’d be down here every day if I had the chance.”

“Might not be so nice in winter,” Jack said, “unless you like your balls frozen.”

“I dunno, nice bracing swim. Probably has health benefits.” He pushed himself away from the bank, managing to catch Jack in his wake.

“Ugh, I think I’d rather die young if that’s what I need to do to stay healthy.”

Simon rolled over onto his back, treading water. “Not me,” he said, hiding the flicker of discomfort he got from just hearing those words, “I’m gonna live forever.”

Jack laughed and shook his head. He grabbed for Simon to try to dunk him under water. It ended up in a pretty spectacular splash fight, both of them laughing madly. Jack buried his face against Simon’s shoulder to stifle his giggles and Simon reached up to fluff his hair, making it stick up in mad spikes.

“Hey,” Jack said, and Simon felt lips against his skin. “Ever tried doing stuff in the water?”

“Depends,” Simon replied, “I shower, I swim. Might have to be a bit more specific on 'stuff’.”

“You are such a pillock,” Jack muttered. He slid his hand round over Simon’s hip to dip below the waistband of his pants. “This specific enough?”

Simon let out a shivery breath and nodded. “Yeah. I think I get the idea.”

“Good,” Jack said, grinning against his neck. “I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah, me too.”


End file.
